


playing yourself like a red three

by EclipseMidnight (EternalEclipse)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton
Genre: Bomb Collar, Canon Universe, Enemies Working Together, Enemies to Friends, Force Bond (Star Wars), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Rescue Missions, Slavery, enemies to family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-04 16:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20474294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalEclipse/pseuds/EclipseMidnight
Summary: As usual, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s mission has gone spectacularly sideways, this time before they even reach the planet they are meant to be helping. Luckily for them, they get some help from an unexpected source.





	playing yourself like a red three

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theLoyalRoyalGuard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLoyalRoyalGuard/gifts).

Waking up was the kind of experience that makes you wish you never had to open your eyes again. The inside of Obi-Wan’s head felt like it was wrapped in cotton for a breath, before his brain started screaming, pulsing with pain in time with his heartbeat. And he was wearing a bomb collar. It was never a good day when he woke up wearing a bomb collar.

He tried to pretend he was still sleeping as he reviewed what he knew. He and Master Qui-Gon had been on a mission to the planet Jendar, and had been travelling on a passenger ship through the Hydian Way hyperspace route that was stopping at Praadost II, before getting on a local hopper for the sector.

Or that had been the plan, at least. Obi-Wan didn’t remember anything past the passenger liner. He tried, pushing harder, but the effort tired him, and despite his best efforts, his mind slipped back into sleep.

* * *

The second time he woke up, Obi-Wan felt a little better. His head was a bit clearer, though his mouth had the sandpaper taste of approaching dehydration and his neck felt sore from the weight of the collar and the angle he’d slept at. He wiped at crusted eyes and blinked. 

The cell he was in was small and dim, with barely enough space for him to lay straight on the floor. He could hear the humming of a ship in space, and the curve of the ceiling suggested he was near the hull.

And he was alone. Obi-Wan tried to reach with the Force to sense his Master—but nothing. His hands went to the collar. It had to be the kind with a Force inhibitor. Whoever had taken them had to have realized he was a Jedi.

Obi-Wan tried to remember what had happened on the liner. They had come out of hyperspace, in the Praadost system. The pilot had made an announcement that they would arrive a little later than expected, because the space station was further along in its orbit of the planet than was usual for the cycle, with some added platitudes. Given the delay, Qui-Gon had sent him off to check the local connections at a data terminal. He had gone, eager to stretch his legs. He’d just reached the terminals when the ship had given a great shudder, and there was an announcement that they were being boarded by galactic customs agents, and that there was,; again, nothing to worry about.

And nothing past that, aside from fuzz. Galactic customs, indeed. More like Outer Rim customs. Grimacing, Obi-Wan tested the door. Locked, as he expected. He settled down to do some light stretching, because he wanted to be at his best in case he could engineer an escape attempt

And he’d meditate after, to try to stay calm. That’s what a good Jedi did, after all. With the thin ice he always skated on with the Council, the least he could do was pretend he was a good Jedi.

* * *

Obi-Wan couldn’t have said how long he’d been locked up when he was taken out of the room.

It had been a couple days at least. Couldn’t have been much longer, or his mind would be in worse shape. Food and water had appeared on his floor between when he slept and when he woke up, and without use of the Force he couldn’t get himself to wake up when they did it. He figured that someone was monitoring his vitals through the blasted collar.

It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the brightness. He didn’t recognize the uniforms, but the state of the garb suggested pirates or something similar. A tighter organization would have some kind of uniform, and these didn’t. It was probably a large group of them, considering how close they got to a major base for travel.

That’s about when he realized that the room he was in had a window in the door. He stared carefully away from it, wondering if it was a trick, but was drawn back towards it by the sound of footsteps that stopped near his door. He tried to listen in, but it was hard.

“He’s in good health, yes,” a male voice simpered. “And young, so he’s easily trainable.”

“And will his Master come looking for him?” Another voice asked. Obi-Wan frowned. There was something familiar about that one, but where could he have heard it before?

“We already sold the Master away,” the first voice came back. “It was too dangerous to keep him here, and he was old enough that we weren’t going to get a price worthy of the risk for taking him somewhere else. There’s no way that he’ll come looking.”

The second person hummed, and walked into Obi-Wan’s line of sight.

Xanatos DuCrion.

Obi-Wan met Xanatos’s eyes head on. Challenging him. True, Xanatos had once put Obi-Wan in a collar like the one he wore now, but Xanatos was obsessed with Qui-Gon, and with their bond Obi-Wan was probably the quickest way for him to find his old master. Of course, that relied on him not immediately killing Obi-Wan for the transgression of being Qui-Gon’s new(er) padawan.

A small smile curved across Xanatos’s face, dimpling his broken circle scar. That, Obi-Wan didn’t know how to readm except that Xanatos had a plan.

“This one is rather young for my taste,” Xanatos told one of the slavers.

“You are not interested in him, then?”

“Hmmm, perhaps. But I might be more interested in the Master.”

The man snorted. “You won’t find the Master. He’s probably in the mines by now. Too stubborn by half that one, to be useful for his powers. And it’s not like anyone wants someone bragging about being a Jedi. He mighta been killed by now. He’s not here in any case…but this human is.”

“Fine.” Xanatos turned back to watching Obi-Wan through the door, smirk growing in response to Obi-Wan’s glare. “Four thousand.”

“Ten thousand credits, and not a one less, for a Jedi.” The slaver returned.

“Ten? Absolutely not. Five.”

“Nine thousand.”

“Fifty-five hundred.”

“Eight.”

“Six.”

“Seven thousand, you cur. Take it or leave it.”

“With the record of who you sold the Master to?”

“_Pfassk_, fine, seven and the record. Done.”

And Xanatos turned away, taking the controller to Obi-Wan’s collar and fiddling with it. “I’ll just write a writ to my bank. I appreciate it, my friends.”

“Be quick, Governor,” the other human directed, waving a hand. “We’re heading to Zygerria next, I’ve got a buyer for a number of the rest. Don’t want to be late.”

“Better not, or the Zygerrians might take you as well.” Xanatos grinned at the man, though to Obi-Wan it looked more like he was baring his teeth. “Is he secured inside?”

“No, Governor.”

“Good.” And the door opened.

For a moment Obi-Wan was filled with a wild, primal urge to push past them and flee. He stamped down on that. He was weakened, and Xanatos didn’t need the Force even to get the better of him, to say nothing of the man who likely carried a blaster if not some kind of electroweapon. Instead, he met Xanatos’s eyes head on, searching the grey for some indication of a mood.

Obi-Wan had been somewhat worried about being enslaved again, and what would happen once he’d been bought, but now he worried more over what Xanatos would do to him. He hadn’t exactly prepared for someone who could use the Force to hurt him.

But all Xanatos did was gesture at him to stand and say, “Come,” and Obi-Wan had no other options but to obey. He hesitated barely a moment when his legs wouldn’t support his weight, and the collar shocked him, nearly sending him tumbling back to the floor.

He ended up following Xanatos out, on his left and a step back, like a proper padawan following his master. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen into it once they’d left the original ship and had room for it, but it had amused Xanatos enough that Obi-Wan decided to leave it, as small a concession as it actually was. It wasn’t like Qui-Gon required that strict observance of him, so it wasn’t like he was sharing something private and important.

“This is Werncin 4,” Xanatos said aloud, as they approached a speeder. “It’s a dirty dustball, with little enough to recommend it. Not even profitable for mining. What it does have, _young padawan_, is slavers who will do much worse to a Jedi child than I will if they find one. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan nodded mutely, and then verbally acknowledged when he remembered he was behind Xanatos. The speeder ride was short, and Xanatos didn’t speak to him again. Obi-Wan wondered where Qui-Gon was, and looked around the speeder in case there was anything that could help get the collar off of him.

By the time they reached Xanatos’s ship, Obi-Wan had realized that there was nothing useful in the speeder except his own brain, and had come up with the questions he needed answered the most. Starting with—“Where are we going?”

“To find Qui-Gon,” Xanatos raised an eyebrow, the pressure stretching his broken circle scar.

“And what’ll you do when you find him?”

“Whatever I wish.”

Obi-Wan hid his frown. “And the collar?”

“That’s staying on for now, dear child. And if you find a way around it, then remember that you have an explosive chip in you from the last time you wore one. The Jedi don’t take care to remove those if they don’t need to. Oh, and call me Master, padawan.”

“Qui-Gon is my Master,” Obi-Wan replied forcefully. “You’re just a failed Jedi who was lucky enough to have a home to return to instead of the Corps, and you won’t kill me, because I’m your best chance to get back Master Qui-Gon, with my bond with him.”

Xanatos chuckled. “Oh, no, I can find Qui-Gon easily enough on my own. But if you’re there, he might even choose to stay with me. The maverick, tamed, and ripe for my revenge.”

They reached the ship and Xanatos stepped off the speeder first, signaling the ship to unfurl its entry ramp while Obi-Wan scowled at his back. If he’d learned anything from two years of crazy missions going even crazier in person, it was that he needed to find some better leverage or he’d die. Unfortunately, he was locked immediately into a closet of a crew room, even for a crew room on a spaceship. Its only merit was that, unlike the cell he’d left, it had a bunk with a blanket.

Despite his best efforts, Obi-Wan slipped into sleep as the ship slipped into hyperspace. He was exhausted, and he couldn’t stay active all the time. That just wasn’t how being human worked. At the very least, more pleasant things might be awaiting him in his dreams.

* * *

Obi-Wan woke up to the alarms of a ship about to leave hyperspace. He clambered into a sitting position, knocking the edge of the collar painfully into his arm.

Xanatos or someone else must have come in while he was sleeping, because there was a small plate of food and a glass of water shaking on the floor. Obi-Wan rescued them before they overturned and tried to eat through the trip’s shaking. He wasn’t sure when his next opportunity would be, and he knew better than to turn this one up, even if he splashed himself in an embarrassing way.

And then the shaking gave way to the three bumps of a proper landing and Obi-Wan waited for something to happen. It took almost an hour to decide that Xanatos was properly leaving him locked up, not just Port Control taking its time and maybe its bribe. Xanatos probably had them on payroll, especially here in his home sector, and he had plenty of reason to keep Obi—Wan locked up.

For his part, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure whether he preferred Xanatos to succeed so he would be reunited with his Master, or if he wanted Xanatos to fail and have to fall back on one of the few pieces of leverage Obi-Wan could bring to bear.

When Xanatos shoved open his door later that night, still empty handed, Obi-Wan figured that the second scenario was more likely the case. If Xanatos couldn’t find Qui-Gon quickly with his herd of analysts and a trail to follow, then not only was Qui-Gon in hot water, but he was in the kind of hot water that had no problems with having him killed as necessary. Which meant Xanatos needed to find him as quickly as possible, which meant using Obi-Wan. That wasn’t good, but he could work with it.

Xanatos, for his part, didn’t even bother with the expected conversation. He just placed his hands on the collar and unlocked it. Obi-Wan counted that as a point dubiously in his favor, or he would, when he wasn’t so overwhelmed by the Force returning to him.

“Don’t do anything stupid, or I’ll kill you, and kriff what Qui-Gon Jinn thinks about it,” Xanatos threatened.

Obi-Wan hid a smile. He didn’t need the Force to know that that was not nearly as legitimate a threat as it would have been two years ago, although the confirmation of his own training was nice to have. It also helped that people threatening to kill him was a dime-a-dozen experience these days, and it wouldn’t have fazed him even if Xanatos had been serious.

The weight off of his shoulders was welcome, and the Force curling around where metal had been helped to erase the tension he’d carried there. Obi-Wan rolled his neck, smiling as the bones cracked. “Do you have any leads?” he asked.

“The name your captors gave was a dead end. I’ve checked every habitable planet and station on the Hydian Way between Praadost and Ruuria, but he’s been sold on by now.” Xanatos responded shortly. “Check your bond, padawan.”

Obi-Wan did, both because Xanatos reminded him he could, and because he did also want to know where and how Qui-Gon was. There was a mental burst of static that startled him as he settled down to meditate, but Xanatos pushed down on his shoulders when he went to chase it. On target then.

It took longer than he hoped to get any sign of life, and then Qui-Gon was still guarding him from afar, or was under some kind of force suppressant. It was too far for them to speak even if they’d been at full power, but Obi-Wan could still get impressions off of Qui-Gon, since that only relied on him knowing his master’s shields.

“He’s hurt,” Obi-Wan whispered. He shut his eyes and tried harder. “He’s definitely been injured somehow, but I can’t tell how badly. He’s also claustrophobic, I think.”

Xanatos swore in a language Obi-Wan didn’t know, before switching back to Basic. “Can you see through his eyes?”

“What?” Obi-Wan had never heard of being able to do that through a training bond.

“I could do it when I was a padawan, if you’re a half-decent replacement you ought to be able to too.”

Obi-Wan held back the response he wanted to give as he tried. But despite his best attempts, he had no idea how to go about seeing through Qui-Gon’s eyes when he could barely touch his shields. He shook his head mutely.

Xanatos growled and ran ae hand through his hair. “I’ll contact Grandmaster then. He’ll take my call, and he can check into if Qui-Gon’s been moved towards Coruscant, unlikely as it is. Serenno’s only a few systems away in that direction. In the meanwhile, try to make yourself useful.”

_Serenno?_ Obi-Wan thought, as he watched the door close behind Xanatos. It occurred to him that he didn’t know who his Grandmaster was. The first time he asked he learned that it was a sore subject for Qui-Gon, and they were close enough to Grandmaster Yoda to fill any gaps that they might have left. Obi-Wan wondered who they were and if Xanatos had anything to do with that disconnect.

When it became clear that he was being left on his own, Obi-Wan decided to do some stretches and abbreviated lightsaber katas to immerse himself in the Force again. He’d search for Qui-Gon again in his meditations after, and maybe doing it that way would help.

Xanatos didn’t disturb him throughout the process, and was even courteous enough to draw in his presence in the Force, making it that much easier for Obi-Wan to reach out. They still brushed together briefly, no way to help it at Obi-Wan’s current skill level, but that wasn’t as bad as Obi-Wan had feared. Xanatos wasn’t Light, not like most of the Jedi at the Temple, but his presence wasn’t the sticky tricky Darkness that Obi-Wan recalled from their last interactions. He wondered what had caused the change.

He reached Qui-Gon again. This time, when he pressed against his mental shields, he got the sense that his Master was sleeping. Still in pain, and not sleeping very deeply, perhaps, but maybe it was an improvement. Obi-Wan pushed further, trying to access his Master’s dreams.

He was a beam of sunlight against a droplet of water in the Master’s Gardens; he was the susurrus of an oversized cloak against the Temple’s stone floors; he was a plant reaching its leaves up and up—and he was in.

“Master?” Obi-Wan called. Qui-Gon looked like he was in as bad shape as he’d expect. There were bruises visible on his arms, and his nose was broken again. But their surroundings were indistinct. “Master Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan called again. “Where are you?”

Qui-Gon turned after the second time Obi-Wan called his name, mouthing something, but his surprise snapped the tenuous connection before Obi-Wan even finished his question. Obi-Wan sat back against the bunk, exhausted by the effort. He’d been so close!

Obi-Wan didn’t see Xanatos the rest of the day, and slept badly that night.

The next morning came alive with the door slamming into the wall, making a loud clang. Obi-Wan’s eyes were wide by the time the recoil hit Xanatos in the elbow. The man hissed, rubbing at it as Obi-Wan scrambled out of bed.

“Don’t forget that you’ve got a chip in you and go running off,” Xanatos snarled. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure where his anger was coming from, but Xanatos didn’t _look_ like he was about to push the button, so Obi-Wan ignored it as an idle threat.

“Does that mean you’ve found him?”

“I have a lead that we’re following. Together, because having you for show as my slave will make things go more smoothly. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan finally noticed what Xanatos was holding. “Are you taking the Force away from me again?”

“Not unless you make me. This will go quicker if we work as a team, at least for now. Now put it on, or I’ll lock you in this room until I find him.”

_And you’ll still have me as a bargaining chip, while I’ll have lost all mine,_ Obi-Wan thought. He still took the bomb collar back from Xanatos and fastened it around his neck. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but it wasn’t like he had any other option, especially while the other could still blow him to bits if he liked. The only good bit was that he could still feel the Force—Xanatos must have modified the collar. He supposed he was more useful this way. “Where are we going?”

“The Listehol Run. Even if the slavers who took you hadn’t gone to Zygerria yet, they might not have been the only ones with the idea that they’d find a better price selling Force Sensitives out there.”

“You’re going to say you’re selling me then.” Obi-Wan touched his hand to his chin in thought.

“Smart boy.” Xanatos smiled. “I’m starting to see why my old Master chose you after all.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure that having Xanatos’s regard was a compliment, but was too polite to say anything else. He turned back to his shields, straightening them out just a little. He was going to need them where they were going. When he checked back into reality, he noticed that Xanatos made him breakfast. While he ate, he reflected that he actually felt a little bad for being so rude to Xanatos. Funny, but he’d never cared about that before.

* * *

They got their first real lead on Mirial. The planet was colder than was generally comfortable for humans, and the ostentatious clothes Xanatos had dressed them both in to attract the kind of attention he wanted weren’t also good against the weather. The locals were used to offworlders popping into shops and bars to warm up, and as long as they spent a little coin no one noticed them. A case in point, two particular mirialan men who shared an ale in the corner of a run down bar ignored the ‘businessman’ and his ‘young slave’.

“Beela’s got a good load in,” one of them commented, just within hearing range.

“Beela’s a filthy bottom feeder,” the other retorted. “She doesn’t dirty her hands getting her merchandise, just reselling it.”

The first shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, she doesn’t overcharge like Pyarra and Yvennic do, and hers are more quality than Cez’s. I need a few more hands in the mines that no one will care about going missing, and she’s good for it.”

“It hasn’t been a bad season,” the other furrows his brows. “Why now?’

“I hear Beela’s got a couple fancy ones, the kind it’s worth it just to see.”

“What’s such a rarity? Twilek virgins?” he laughed.

“Ha! More rare than that. I hear she’s got a Jedi in her loot this time.”

“A Jedi! Ha! That’s the best joke you’ve said all week. No way she’s got a Jedi.”

“Twenty credits she does. Worth going for the show?”

“Aye,” the second said, before chugging down the rest of the wine, slamming down a credit chip, and leading the way out. Apparently this was normal, because the bartender didn’t look their way more than a moment.

Obi-Wan wanted to follow them, and he might have if he were alone, but Xanatos wouldn’t let him if he asked. A slave would not be allowed to go off on their own the way a Jedi padawan might, especially in an unfamiliar space, he reminded himself. He eyed Xanatos. If he was pretending, then wasn’t he more of a Jedi Padawan still than anything else?

But just as he was about to go after them anyway, Xanatos pushed down on the top of his head, keeping him in place. Xanatos muttered, “I’m not your Qui-Gon,” softly enough not to be overheard and misinterpreted. And he obviously was not. His Master was the reason they were working together, and his Master would have sent him after the mirialans.

“No, _Master,_” Obi-Wan replied, barely civil. Instead, he stood behind the chair Xanatos selected, eyes cast down and ears pricked. He listened to as much as he could hear, but while he heard a little more about “Beela”, he didn’t hear anything about Qui-Gon.

* * *

Two days later, Obi-Wan and Xanatos were heading back out, winding through dirty streets to where Beela’s auction was supposed to take place. Obi-Wan was again walking behind Xanatos, the usual following distance of a Padawan mimicking close enough to a slave’s to be convenient.

They found the place without any trouble. There was a guard, but they waved them through with a small smirk at Obi-Wan’s collar. Xanatos had given him one “for show”, since having a slave would heighten his status here. Obi-Wan thought it was something of a reminder to him as well, though, about who had the power here.

The room they entered into was nice enough. A look from Xanatos sent Obi-Wan off to gather drinks from the bar. He got into a queue behind a green-skinned Twi’lek and a pair of red-hued humanoids whose race he couldn’t place offhand.

“You’re new ‘round here,” the Twi’lek observed.

Obi-Wan turned to take her in. “Yes, my Master is just passing through and happened to hear about this gathering while we were here.”

“And a Core accent!” she chortled. “Best stay close to your Master then, or someone’ll steal you to sell themself! I’ll bet they’d make a tidy profit off you. Gida.” She stuck out a hand, which Obi-Wan accepted.

“I’m Wan. Thank you for the advice.”

“Offworlders don’t come in here for passin’ through now, Wan. What’s yours looking for?”

Obi-Wan hesitated a moment. He weighed the potential danger against the potential for information. “I’m not sure, but I believe he said something about Beela having something unusual for sale.”

“Ah, the Jedi! I’ve heard it too, not sure I believe it.” Gida shook her head. “But Beela’s not an idiot. She wouldn’t bring somethin’ like _that_ to a public auction if she had one, that’s just invitin’ Galactic police, even out here. Your Master is gonna haveta get into her good books if he wants the good stuff”

The line moved, and the moment broke. Gida set herself to ordering the drinks she’d been sent for, and Obi-Wan focused on returning to Xanatos as quickly as possible. When he got back, Xanatos had made himself comfortable schmoozing and charming everyone. The only one missing from Xanatos’s group was their gracious host, who had yet to make her rounds from what Obi-Wan had heard. He pressed the cool glass into Xanatos’s hand, and forced himself to stay still when Xanatos pet his head in a show of thanks.

Soon after, the lights were flickered and a thin human woman appeared at the front of the room. “Announcing, Mistress Beela Bester!” she called.

Beela stepped into the open to the sound of bemused applause. She was older than Obi-Wan was expecting, brown hair graying at the edges, and spoke with an accent he’d never heard before. She quickly moved on to announcing the first slave, a young man with visible markings from some sort of discipline. Obi-Wan wanted to turn away in disgust, but the least he could do for these people would be to bear witness to their suffering.

Xanatos apparently felt the same, his hand tightening on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

The young man was sold, followed by a pair of Twi’lek men, and half a dozen others. Obi-Wan found that Gida had been right as time went on—none of the slaves being sold were particularly special or prized by the markets. None were force sensitive, and many were men likely to end up as some kind of laborer, the kind found all over the outer Rim.

The auction drew to a close with a flourish, and Beela disappeared again. Obi-Wan hoped she would mingle afterwards. Luckily enough, that was what happened. Xanatos sent him back to the bar for a few more drinks, so he didn’t overhear anything, but he had hope and a few ideas.

The line was even longer the second time, though he didn’t see Gida there. By the time he returned to Xanatos, the man was in the middle of charming Beela. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure, but it seemed like it was working. Xanatos took a drink, and offered one to Beela off of the tray Obi-Wan carried. She accepted, feeling Obi-Wan’s outstretched arm with her free hand. Obi-Wan fought for composure as he let it happen.

“Lean, this one,” she commented, holding onto his wrist. “Mannerly enough though, better than most of the young ones I see. What skills does he have?”

“Ben here is useful to have around.” Xanatos met Beela’s eyes, but brushed against Obi-Wan in the Force. He wasn’t sure if it was comforting or not, especially with that nickname coming from someone he wasn’t sure was a friend. “His manners are impeccable, he is a good conversationalist, he’s got a head for numbers, and he’s an excellent dancer.”

“A dancer? Perhaps he could entertain us at a smaller gathering soon.” Beela chuckled and let go of his arm.

“Perhaps he could.”

“Excellent! I’ll send you the details on your comm, don’t be late!”

Xanatos smiled as Beela deposited her empty glass on Obi-Wan’s tray next to Xanatos’s, and stepped away.

* * *

Nothing else interesting happened before they left, and Obi-Wan fell asleep as soon as they got back to the ship and Xanatos took off the collar. In the morning he checked on his bond, but didn’t feel much from Qui-Gon, like his Master was under suppression if he hadn’t been before. Refusing to worry about it, he met Xanatos for breakfast.

“How good are your unarmed katas?” Xanatos asked.

“Is that what you meant by dancing?”

Xanatos nodded, smiling. “They’ll keep you limber and in touch with the Force, so if we need to run for it, you’ll be prepared. And they won’t be recognizable to people who haven’t been in the Temple. You’ll show them to me after you clean up.”

It wasn’t like Obi-Wan was in a position to refuse, so after he cleaned up he went to the ship’s hold, which was the largest open space on the ship, and stripped to a pair of worn pants. He looked to where Xanatos was watching.

“Warm up, and then go onto the katas for whichever form you’ve been using. Ataru? Don’t use the Force for any of it.” Xanatos instructed.

Obi-Wan warmed up easily enough, but ran into problems nearly immediately with the Ataru katas. Because it was such an acrobatic form, Ataru needed a second person who was in sync to work with, or it needed force jumps to compensate. There was no flying through the air on his own, without the Force, and there wasn’t much going on in the air to emulate from the ground. He ground to a halt halfway through the first kata, and couldn’t see his way to ending it.

“Ataru isn’t enough for this, then.” Xanatos mused. “Has your diplomatic classes reached dancing yet?”

“Only partner ones, since the idea is generally not offending dignitaries, not putting on a show,” Obi-Wan shot back.

“Hmm. Show me.” Xanatos approached.

Obi-Wan took his hands, wondering when he’s ended up trusting this former enemy enough to do so. They started a simple waltz, and then a rumba, and then a couple more. They were nearly universal in being slow, and not overly taxing.

“I should have asked before I said you could dance,” Xanatos pursed his lips. “You won’t have trained in the unaffiliated unarmed forms, and those won’t be useful at all. Perhaps Shii-Cho mixed with what Ataru will allow, with what jumps can be done unassisted? Maybe I’ll try something, and you can follow.”

What followed was two days of Xanatos teaching Obi-Wan how to combine what he knew into a set of showy, acrobatic dance moves. Obi-Wan found that his opinion of Xanatos had changed. He was still suspicious of him, because he couldn’t help but to be, but Xanatos had treated him more like a student than a slave or a slug on his boot. The end of the second day saw him calling Obi-Wan “little brother”, which Obi-Wan definitely didn’t know how to react to. Where had the murderous, vengeful, Darkened former-padawan gone?

The third day brought a change of routine. Obi-Wan was presented with a few garments Xanatos had purchased to make a more convincing costume for him. It wouldn’t be much, he discovered. A pleasure slave on display would be expected to show some skin. But it would be more functional than it looked, and some creative makeup would further draw the eye away.

It was raining that evening when they left, so Obi-Wan wrapped up in a cloak to protect his costume. It was more comfortable than he’d expected, even if he felt uneasy about showing himself off in front of a crowd. It might be crude matter, but it was _his_ crude matter and he hadn’t quite mastered that separation yet. He hadn’t had to. The only good part was that he wasn’t expected to be wearing a collar in this sort of company, especially because he had a chip.

While Xanatos swanned into the main room, Obi-Wan was immediately shuffled off to the back to prepare for his showing. He ended up in a room with a trio of twi’leki women who were doing each other’s makeup. He smiled at them, and asked where he could find a bathroom.

Three minutes later, he was in the back, sneaking through the area where the slaves being sold that night were being kept. His fingers tapped his leg without permission in their nervousness, but he found Qui-Gon rather quickly. He was meditating, faced towards where Obi-Wan could see.

He immediately reached for Xanatos in the Force, and was surprised by how easy it was. He wanted to open Qui-Gon’s cell door and run. He wanted to open up all the cell doors and free everyone here. But Xanatos did the mental-Force equivalent of a quelling hand on his shoulder. _Not yet,_ he seemed to say. _It wouldn’t do any good_.

That didn’t mean that the impulse disappeared. Obi-Wan cautiously put his hand through the bars of Qui-Gon’s cell. “Master?”

Qui-Gon’s eyes flew open. “Obi-Wan? What are you doing here?”

“I’m with Xanatos,” Obi-Wan said. Qui-Gon opened his mouth but he beat him to it. “I’m okay. But we’re getting you out of here.”

Qui-Gon shut his mouth and had a strange look on his face that Obi-Wan had never seen before. “Xanatos is Darkened.”

“He’s the best ally we have right now, and he’s not so bad. But do you know the door code?”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “They drugged us before they brought us here. Don’t get caught, Obi-Wan. For all his faults, Xanatos was always good at strategy. If he’s actually on our side, we’ll all get out of here safe. Now, go!”

Obi-Wan frowned, and nodded. He reached back towards Xanatos as he rushed back the way he had come, back to the room with the twi’leks. One of them offered to fix his eye makeup but before she could start, someone Obi-Wan didn’t recognize came to the room to draw them away. They were apparently the opening act.

Obi-Wan sat in the room, twiddling his thumbs and trying to meditate, for over two hours as the auction went on. He could hear vaguely when people cheered, but most of the noise was beyond him. He did his stretches, and by the time someone came to get him, he was about as prepared as he was going to be.

Dancing was easier and harder than he’d thought. The movements came to him, but it was difficult to be unselfconscious about doing them in front of a crowd, even if that crowd was mostly not paying him any mind. He did catch Xanatos’s eyes at one point, and the man _smirked_ at him, which nearly threw him off entirely. It was more like the Xanatos that nearly had him killed as opposed to the one he’d been getting to know, until he sensed the distinct amusement in place of the menace he remembered. He deliberately turned away from him without being too obvious about it, but it was somehow comforting to know that Xanatos was keeping an eye out for him, just in case.

He had no idea if Xanatos had bought Qui-Gon, or if he was going to have to make a quick escape later, but he did know that he was going to be prepared for anything. The room melted away around him, replaced by a sense of peace and movement from the Force. He was grateful to it even as he pushed himself deeper. It felt good. The time melted away, so much so that when the music he was dancing to cut off, it was a surprise. And then he was ushered offstage and through the door.

* * *

Qui-Gon was waiting for them at the exit, with the force-suppressing collar Obi-Wan had felt and an attached leash that was handed off to Xanatos. They set off wordlessly.

There was a strange tension. It was one thing for Xanatos to work with Obi-Wan while Qui-Gon’s whereabouts was up in the air. The worst Obi-Wan had done to Xanatos was be chosen as Qui-Gon’s next padawan and then proceed not to die on command. But the history between Xanatos and Qui-Gon was much more complicated, and even more painful.

Obi-Wan ended up in the bathroom first. Ostensibly that was because they didn’t have clothes in Qui-Gon’s size at hand, but he suspected that it was really to give Xanatos and Qui-Gon a chance to speak without him there.

He didn’t know what to expect out of Xanatos now that Qui-Gon was around. He hadn’t been _nice_, exactly, but he also hadn’t treated Obi-Wan like he was a bug to be squashed or like he was useless. It hadn’t all been pleasant, and he was reminded that Xanatos still had something at his fingertips that would paralyze him at best, kill him at worst, but he didn’t think he’d use it.

Whether he’d use something like that on Qui-Gon was a different matter entirely.

Obi-Wan rushed through the sonic, feeling immediately better once he was clean, and even more so once he wrapped himself up in his own clothes. He felt Qui-Gon’s side of their training bond open up as he hurried back, touching to it for reassurance.

Qui-Gon and Xanatos’s voices filtered into the hallway once he got near the hold, and Obi-Wan stopped outside it as not to interrupt them.

“—need to know,” Xanatos was saying. “I need to understand why you did it. Why won’t you show me?”

Qui-Gon sighed. “Padawan—Xanatos—while I greatly appreciate the rescue, and the rescue of my Obi-Wan as well, I see that you have grown a great deal in the last four years. I do not believe that showing you these things will help you change for the better.”

“But don’t I have a right to know? It’s my life, and it’s not like I’m going to be a sith-fucking Jedi anymore. That’s you, and the replacement you’ve chosen. But was I so irredeemable at his age?”

“You know what you did, and why, if you look into yourself. You do know that it wasn’t I that cast you off of the path, but rather that you jumped off it yourself, in search of things that you could find amongst the Jedi and some that we are sworn not to touch.”

“So high and mighty,” Xanatos laughed. It sounded hollow and painful. “I wonder why I thought that talking to you would help. It’s a wonder you haven’t screwed that kid up worse with your…overbearing _piety_. Qui-Gon the maverick. Ha! More like Qui-Gon the ‘Perfect Jedi’.”

“Xanatos—”

“No. I’m through with this. I can’t believe I thought you’d have become more reasonable over the years. Neither of you are injured, so I’ll drop you at whatever planet you’re supposed to be going to, and you can find your way back to Coruscant afterwards.”

“I’ll show you, Xani. But it will probably leave us with some kind of bond,” Qui-Gon warned.

“I’m prepared for that.” Obi-Wan could picture the face of stubborn anger that went with that voice.

“And you might not like what you see—”

“I told you, I’m prepared for that! Just show me.”

And then Qui-Gon did something in the Force, and Obi-Wan could feel through the bond that he was focusing intently on something else. He inched into the opening so he could see the pair of them.

The room wasn’t _trashed_, if only because the cargo hold had been fairly empty to start with, but there had clearly been at least one explosion in the Force. And Qui-Gon and Xanatos were staring intently at each other. Obi-Wan didn’t want to distract them, but he also couldn’t feel exactly what they were doing.

Lacking any further insight from the Force, Obi-Wan kept watch until it looked like they were stirring, and then he left, going for the bunk he’d been sleeping in. Soon after he heard boots coming down the hallway, only one set. He supposed Qui-Gon was sleeping in the hold. Somehow, he forced himself to go to sleep.

* * *

The next day, Obi-Wan didn’t see Xanatos at all. Qui-Gon was rehydrating some rations when he went for breakfast. He smiled at his Master, who pulled him into a long hug.

“I’m so glad you’re safe, padawan,” Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan pulled gently on the bond between them. “I’ve been with Xanatos this whole time, and it’s not been so bad. I’m more glad you’re safe, we got lucky in finding you.”

“There is no luck, only the Force,” Qui-Gon rebuked gently. “I was found, because the Force wanted you to find me. And I am appreciative to you both over the fact.”

Obi-Wan hid his expression over Qui-Gon’s shoulder. Philosophy wasn’t the best part about having his Master around, even if he rathered its presence to its continued absence. “As you say, Master.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. “Go eat, padawan. I can feel just like this that you’ve gotten even skinnier since the last time I saw you. If you’re ever going to get taller, you need to eat better. Today is going to be a long day.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes while Qui-Gon still couldn’t see, and went to fix himself some breakfast.

After they ate, Qui-Gon made good on his threat. They began with a shared meditation, where Obi-Wan could feel Xanatos just as well as Qui-Gon, except that Xanatos pushed him away when he went in his direction. Afterwards, they stretched and went through unarmed katas in the hold at half-speed. At some point the ship began to rock, so they settled down until Xanatos put them in hyperspace, before going on.

As the day went on, Obi-Wan felt his connection with Qui-Gon strengthening, until they were a lot closer to their usual levels of synchronization. It was a good thing. They were going to be on a mission soon, and with their luck this side jaunt wouldn’t be the only hiccup in the process. They usually got the worst cases and there was no telling what harm the delay had wreaked.

Obi-Wan barely noticed Xanatos’s absence until after dinner, when he still hadn’t shown up. He didn’t think talking to Qui-Gon about Xanatos would help anything, but he also didn’t think that Xanatos was entirely the same person as he’d been the first time they’d met, on Bandomeer, or as when he’d broken Qui-Gon’s heart.

When Qui-Gon went to do evening meditations on his own, Obi-Wan snuck away to the cockpit where Xanatos had holed up.

“I can hear you, Obi-Wan,” Xanatos called when Obi-Wan hesitated by the doorway, so Obi-Wan stepped inside.

“You didn’t kill him.”

“No.” Xanatos spun his chair to face Obi-Wan. “I just violated his mind for my curiosity. Does that satisfy you?”

“It’s not a violation if you say yes,” Obi-Wan insisted stubbornly.

Xanatos snorted.

“You weren’t ever going to kill him. Or me, this time, if it came down to it.” Obi-Wan became even more certain as he spoke

“And why not? I hate him, and I nearly killed you the last time.”

“Because that’s not who you are. And because you love him, but you don’t want to resent him anymore.”

“You’re learning, padawan, but you’re not a Master yet.” Xanatos grinned as his Force sense darkened with anger. “Of course I resent the man that abandoned me. But I don’t resent _you_ anymore.”

And then Xanatos reached out in the Force, and Obi-Wan touched back, and suddenly Obi-Wan could feel Xanatos much more deeply.

“What’s that?” he gasped.

“That’s a pair bond, little brother.” Xanatos’s smile softened a tad. “You might be becoming a Jedi, but I’m going to make sure you don’t get your head entirely stuck up the Code’s behind like our dear, dear Master.”

Obi-Wan stepped closer to him, his body moving without his mind’s permission. He enfolded Xanatos with a hug that the other didn’t seem to know what to do with, even as the sound of someone running reverberated through the metal hall.

“_What did you do?_” Qui-Gon called from the door, wild-eyed and panting.

“Nothing _naughty_, Master Jinn.” Xanatos resumed a hostile expression. “Just bonding with Obi-Wan here.”

“_That’s not—_”

“It’s okay, Master Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m fine.”

* * *

The last thirty hours aboard Xanatos’s ship were tense. Qui-Gon and Xanatos refused to share air with each other, and Obi-Wan had been kept close and ignored by Qui-Gon in turns. It was rather irritating, even if he understood why it was happening. He spent more of his time with Xanatos in response, which meant a mix of tedious Force work and a crash course in system governance from a Governor’s point of view. Useful, for his line of work, but also it felt like points in the game between Xanatos and Qui-Gon, which he was less sanguine about.

Twice, he’d seen the pair of them glaring at each other from across a room, until he’d interrupted it by drawing the attention of one or the other. It was rather exhausting to be the one sane person on the ship.

He slept once during that cycle, and he’d woken up gasping, scrabbling at the bomb collar that no longer resided around his neck. Xanatos had burst into his room to check on him, snarking at him until Obi-Wan was calm enough to snark back. It had been nice. He found that he trusted Xanatos more than he ever thought he would have, despite Qui-Gon’s disapproval.

But thirty hours wasn’t all that long, and soon enough they were in orbit around a colorful planet, contacting the local government to figure out where they could land. Obi-Wan had a bad feeling about what they were going to find, but that just meant it was a day ending in a ‘y’ for a new mission.

Obi-Wan breathed, and touched the Force. He felt Qui-Gon, much recovered from his short bout of enslavement, and Xanatos, who was viciously amused by something but who didn’t rebuff his gentle mental touch. Whatever was waiting for him, he knew he had these people to come back to.

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thanks to the mods for putting this exchange together! I hope everyone enjoyed this fic, especially my giftee, theLoyalRoyalGuard. Writing this was definitely interesting, and I hope in character. 
> 
> The title is a reference to how red threes are special cards in Samba and Canasta, and how Obi-Wan handles his situation. Actually one of the few titles I didn't come up with at last second; I think I thought I was being clever at the time. 
> 
> In any case, thanks for reading!


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